prepared for rebellion, and Cethegus fed them
with hopes of a more favourable opportunity. Besides this, the new King
was known and liked by them as a friend of Roman civilisation.

The Goths, however, did not seem inclined to submit to the change
without more ado. Prince Theodahad was certainly a man--that was in his
favour and an Amelung, which last circumstance weighed heavily; but he
was by no means esteemed. Cowardly and unmartial, effeminate in body
and mind, he had none of the qualities which the Germans require in
their kings. One sole passion filled his soul--avarice, insatiable love
of gold. Though very rich, he was constantly engaged in mean quarrels
with his neighbours in Tuscany. He well understood the art of
increasing his estates by force and cunning, and the weight of his
royal rank, and how to wrest their property from his neighbours; "for,"
says an author of that period, "it seemed to Theodahad that to have
neighbours was a kind of misfortune." At the same time, his weak nature
was entirely subject to that of his wicked but strong-minded wife.

For all these reasons, the worthiest members of the Gothic nation saw
the accession of such a man to the throne of Theodoric with great
dislike; and the manifesto had scarcely been published, when Earl Teja,
who had shortly before returned to Ravenna with Hildebad, summoned the
old master-at-arms and Witichis, and invited them to arouse and direct
the discontent of the people, and to set a more worthy man in
Theodahad's place.

"You know," he concluded his exhortation, "how favourable is the temper
of the people. Since the night of our meeting in the Temple of Mercury,
we have incessantly stirred up the nation, and have succeeded in many
of our efforts. The noble self-assertion of Athalaric, the victory of
the Feast of Epiphany, the prevention of Amalaswintha's escape was all
our work. Now a favourable opportunity offers. Shall a man who is
weaker than a woman step into a woman's place? Have we no more worthy
man than Theodahad amongst us?"

"He is right, by Thor and Woden!" cried Hildebad. "Away with these weak
Amelungs! Raise a hero upon our shield, and hit about on all sides!
Away with the Amelungs!"

"No," said Witichis calmly; "not yet. Perhaps it will come to that at
last; but it must not happen sooner than is necessary. The Amelungs
have a great party. Theodahad would never part with the riches, nor
Gothelindis with the power of the crown without a struggle; they are
strong enough, if not for victory, at least for battle. But strife
between brothers is terrible. Necessity alone can justify it; and, at
present, that does not exist. Theodahad may try; he is weak, and may
easily be led. There is time enough to act if he prove incapable."

"Who knows if then there will be time?" said Teja warningly.

"What dost thou advise, old man?" asked Hildebad, upon whose mind the
remarks of Witichis had not been without effect.

"Brothers," answered Hildebrand, stroking his long beard, "you have the
choice, and therefore are plagued with doubt. I am spared both, for I
am bound. The King's old followers have sworn an oath that, as long as
a member of his House lives, they will allow no stranger to occupy the
throne."

"What a foolish oath!" cried Hildebad.

"I am old, and yet I do not call it foolish. I know what a blessing
rests upon the great and sacred law of inheritance; and the Amelungs
are descended from the gods!" he added mysteriously.

"Theodahad is a fine child of the gods!" laughed Hildebad.

"Be silent!" cried the old man angrily. "You modern men understand this
no longer. You think you can fathom everything with your miserable
reason. The mystery, the secrecy, the magic that lies in blood--for
this you have lost all sense. Therefore I have held my peace about such
things. But you cannot change me, with my near a hundred years. Do what
you like; I shall do what I must."

"Well," said Earl Teja, yielding, "upon thy head be the responsibility.
But when this last Amelung is no more----"

"Then the followers of Theodoric are free from their oath."

"Perhaps," said Witichis, "it is fortunate that your oath spares us the
choice, for we certainly wish for no ruler whom thou canst not
acknowledge. Let us then go and pacify the people; and let us bear with
this King as long as it is possible."

"But not an hour longer!" cried Teja, and went away in anger.

CHAPTER II.

The very same day Theodahad and Gothelindis were crowned with the
ancient crown of the Goths.

A splendid banquet, at which all the Roman and Gothic dignitaries of
the court and city were present, enlivened the old palace and the
usually quiet gardens, with which we have become acquainted as the
scene of Athalaric's and Camilla's loves.

The revel lasted until deep into the night.

The new King, no friend of the cup, or of barbaric revelry, had retired
early.

Gothelindis, on the contrary, sunned herself in the glory of her new
rank. Proudly she sat upon her high seat, the golden circlet on her
dark hair. She seemed all ear for the loud hurrahs with which, again
and again, her own and her husband's names were greeted. But most of
all she enjoyed the thought that these shouts would penetrate into the
royal vault, where Amalaswintha, her hated and conquered rival, sat
mourning by the sarcophagus of her son.

Among the crowd of such guests as need only a full cup to make them
merry, many a grave face was to be seen; many a Roman who would rather
have seen the Emperor Justinian upon the throne at the head of the
table; many a Goth who, in the present precarious condition of affairs,
could not do homage to such a King as Theodahad without anxiety.

To these last belonged Witichis, whose thoughts seemed far absent from
the splendid scene around him. The golden cup before him stood
untouched, and he scarcely noticed the loud exclamations of Hildebad,
who sat opposite him.

At last--the lamps were long since lit, and the stars stood in the
sky--he rose and went into the greeny darkness of the garden. He slowly
wandered through the taxus-walks, his eyes fixed upon the sparkling
luminaries. His heart was with his wife, with his child, whom he had
not seen for months.

He wandered on unconsciously, until at last he came to the little
Temple of Venus by the quay, with which we are already acquainted.

He looked out over the gleaming sea. All at once something shining at
his feet attracted his attention. It was the glittering of the
moonlight upon a small Gothic harp, and upon a suit of mail. A man lay
before him upon the soft grass, and a pale face was uplifted towards
him.

"Thou here, Teja? Thou wert not at the banquet?"

"No; I was with the dead."

"My thoughts, too, were absent; at home with wife and child," said
Witichis.

"With wife and child," repeated Teja, sighing.

"Many asked after thee, Teja."

"After me? Should I sit by Cethegus, who has robbed me of my honour, or
by Theodahad, who took inheritance?"

"Thine inheritance?"

"At least he possesses it. And over the place where once stood my
cradle he now drives his ploughshare."

His head sank upon his breast, and both were silent.

"And thy harp," at last said Witichis, "will it never be heard again?
They praise thee as our nation's best minstrel!"

"Like Gelimer, the last King of the Vandals, who was also the best
singer of his nation.--But they shall never lead _me_ in triumph to
Byzantium!"

"Thou singest but seldom now?"

"Seldom or never. But it seems to me time is coming when I shall sing
again."

"A time of joy?"

"A time of deep and final sorrow."

Again a long pause ensued.

"My Teja," resumed Witichis, "I have ever found thee, in all trouble of
peace or war, as true as steel. And although thou art so much younger
than I--and an elder man does not lightly bind himself to a youth--I
may call thee my best and bosom-friend. I know that thy heart cleaves
to me more than to thy youthful companions."

Teja took the speaker's hand and pressed it. "Yes, even when my ways
perplex thee, thou withholdest not thy respect and sympathy. The
others---- And yet, _one_ of them I love much!"

"Whom?"

"He whom all love."

"Totila?"

"Yes. I love him as the night loves the morning star. But he is so
frank, that he cannot understand when others are, and must be,
reserved."

"Must be! Why? Thou knowest that curiosity is not my failing. And if,
at this earnest moment, I beg thee to lift the veil from thy grief, I
ask it only because I would gladly help and comfort thee, and because a
friend's eye often sees more clearly than one's own."

"Help? Help me? Canst thou awaken the dead? My pain is irrevocable as
the past! Whoever has, like me, seen the unmerciful wheel of Fate roll,
crushing everything before it, blind and dumb to all tenderness and
nobleness; yea, even crushing what is noble more easily and readily,
because it _is_ tender; whoever has acknowledged that a dull necessity,
which fools call the wise providence of God, rules the universe and the
life of mankind, is past all help and comfort! If once he has caught
the sound, he hears for ever, with the sharp ear of despair, the
monotonous rumble of the cruel, insensible wheel in the centre of the
universe, which, at every revolution, indifferently produces or
destroys life. Whoever has felt this, and lived through it, renounces
all and for ever. For evermore, nothing can make him afraid. But
certainly--he has also for ever forgotten the sweetness of a smile."

"Thou makest me shudder! God forbid that I should ever entertain such a
delusion! How hast thou acquired, so young, such terrible wisdom?"

"Friend, by thought alone the truth cannot be reached; only the
experience of life can teach it. And in order to understand what and
how a man thinks, it is